Down the rabbit hole (one shot)
by Ladymischief09
Summary: He broke her, like every flower that ever crossed his path, he destroyed her, left her withered and lost. Trapped in a wonderland that seemed to come and go as insanity pulled her in and out of her own broken mind. But even when she was broken... He loved her. Albert Wesker/OC.


**AN: SO GUYS! IM NEW IN THIS FANDOM SO PLEASE FORGIVE ME AND MY CRAPPY EXCUSE FOR A ONE SHOT, BUT EVER SINCE I FELL INTO THE RESIDENT EVIL FANDOM I WAS LIKE, OMG! THAT DUDE WITH THE SHADES AND SLICKED BACK HAIR IS SOOO FRIGGIN' HOT! I JUST HAD TO WRITE A FAN FICTION ABOUT THIS DUDE! SO I ENDED UP SPENDING MY WEEK END WATCHING THE R.E SERIES, NOT THAT I REGRET IT OR ANYTHING BUT I SUDDENLY ASKED MYSELF WHEN DID KILLING A BUNCH OF ZOMBIES BECOME SO HOT?! ANYWAYS SORRY FOR MY INCESSANT BLABBERING BUT DO READ ON MY PRETTY LITTLE DARLINGS AND ENJOY XD. **

**_One shot. Down the rabbit hole._**

Albert Wesker watched as the young woman spun in her new dress, humming a soft tune that was well worn by her supple red lips. She's done this so many times before, chasing the phantom butterflies that only she could see, everyday until her legs felt sore and numb. She would laugh at everything, throwing her head back in glee as her long tresses of midnight black fell around her, it never ceased to mesmerize the stoic chairman. But as he steadied the fair young woman by taking hold of her shoulders, his serpentine eyes boring into her silver blue ones she would always stare back at him, her eyes distant and lost though she would always smile at him, baring her slightly crooked teeth. Her pale slender fingers would reach out to touch his alabaster face, and he would not deny her. He'd let her trace his jawline, leading up his hairline and into the rich mop of pale gold hair, slicked back.

"You're back! my white rabbit is back..." She would often greet him, with a smile plastered on her face. Albert Wesker would only smile back at her, his ungloved hands releasing its hold on her bare shoulders only to take her hand and kiss the smooth knuckles.

"Yes, i am back. How was your day, did anything interesting happened to you?" He'd ask. Never showing any sign of what he's truly feeling. He did this to her and it filled him with grief and anguish, he took her away from everyone she ever loved, destroyed everything she ever cared for. He broke her. Her mind was so broken that sometimes she'd imagine that she was living in wonderland, imagine that the world is still the same as it was before the virus he'd made killed everyone she loved, turning them into monsters. Rotten carcasses of human DNA.

"Well, i had tea with the hatter and then i played with alice... But then something happened." She said, a frown shadowing her eyes. Albert's brows rose in question, the un present sunglasses felt uncomfortably wedged between the breast pocket of his black jacket and his chest.

"Oh? What happened?" He asked, his tone was soft and warm as if he was talking to a mere child. Her hands fiddling with the lace and chiffon skirt of her cream coloured dress as her eyes kept looking down at the floor, her lips forming a pout as she tried to remember what had happened after her tea party with the mad hatter. Her broken mind desperately trying to fix together the fragments of flashing memories, flying fleetingly across her brain. She could see exotic wild flowers and willow trees that spoke to her in lilting voices, tiny fireflies that danced in the dark of night, black ravens with beaks like a wooden writing desk and little girls dressed in blue outfits and white aprons painting the white roses red. Red, it was all so red. Red like an apple. Red like blood. Blood everywhere, on the walls and on the flowers, dripping over carcasses of broken bones and rotting flesh. She watched in her memories as a small little girl in a blue dress grew into the size of a full grown woman, her dress replaced by a black leather suit and gleaming metal, her hands no longer held red paint but instead a gun and the head of a monster in the other, its eyes placid and dull but its mouth poured out thick blackish liquids.

"Red, i saw red... And a raven." She answered him, her eyes lost and unfocused, she kept staring at the spot above his head. Albert Wesker sighed tiredly, his thumb brushing over her thin wrist as he pulled her closer to him, embracing her to his firm chest. He could feel her steady breathing fanning against his left cheek and ear. She was seeing the blood again, this he knew. She often talked in her sleep, telling him about how she saw blood, blood over white roses in full bloom.

"What did the raven said to you?" He asked her, indulging her and her delusional stories. She pulled away from him, her soft midnight black hair moving with her sudden action, her brows knitting together in a confused frown. "Is something the matter?" He queered.

"Ravens cant talk, They write." Was her simple answer as if it all made sense, well perhaps it did, in her own little world maybe it did make sense.

"Oh i see, please forgive me and my ignorance my love." Albert smiled at her, baring his white, straight teeth, his dimples digging into his cheeks. She gave him a nod, though her rouge lips were still slightly pouted.

"You are forgiven, but only because i want to ask you something..." She said in a low voice, her slim arms wrapping around his neck as she stood on her tip toes so that she can whisper on his ear as if someone undeserving might hear of her question. "Why is a raven like a writing desk? And why did alice paint the roses red?" She asked but didn't pull away this time. Albert held her close, his strong, muscled arms wrapping around her waist to keep her in place. He sighed, inhaling the scent of her skin and hair, just like lavender and honey suckle. She had asked him those questions a thousand times every time he comes to visit her in her little paradise, where he kept a close eye on her as a few specialists tried to no extent to bring her back from her delusional state. And every time, he couldn't come up with an answer so he would just settle for the usual 'i don't know' and a kiss to her soft cheek.

"Am i going crazy Wesker?" She suddenly whispered against his ear, he could feel hot tears streaming down the side of his neck as she pressed her face closer against him. It broke his heart or whats left of it, as he heard the sudden realisation and sanity seep into her voice, only for it to be lost again in a sea of her colourful imaginings.

"Yes, but perhaps it's not as bad as it may seem." He whispered to her as he buried his nose into her fragrant hair.

"I know, but right now when i am sane, i want you to know that you are forgiven. For everything, and thank you..." Her voice was soft like a feathers touch.

"For what are you thanking me for love?" He asked her, his hands combing through her silk like hair and down her back.

"For breaking me and taking me to wonderland." She said before pulling away just enough so that she could kiss him. Her warm lips touched his in a soft peck. His hand reached up to cup her porcelain face, kissing her, this time with more passion. He prodded her mouth with his tongue, tasting the sweetness that was her and drowning away his sorrow as he sated his misery with her kisses. Her delicate hands gripping the fabric of his shirt with as much strength she could muster as if it would help her cling to her sanity even for just a few moments longer. "I love you." She whispered in between kisses and against his lips as they fell onto the soft bed of her confinement unit, the lavish blue drapery, embroidered with silver threading bathed them in shadows as the moon rose higher in the dark crisp sky.

The rustling of clothes being discarded and sheets falling to the marbled ground echoed through out her chambers. Softly whispered words of comfort and passion was said, lips against skin, and slick sweat over smooth porcelain flesh. Nips and licks and a few passionate strokes was what made her aware, aware of who she was, of who he was, what he's done and how no matter what, he'll always be forgiven.

He was drowning in her, her heat and her voice. Her softly spoken i love you's and her moans of pleasure. He thrived in her, and she kills him inside all the while. He loved her but he'd never admit it. Though he cared for her and that's all he'll allow them others to know. And after their passionate love making he would often stare at her. Her beautiful hair pooling around her like a sheet of black silk and her skin, so smooth and fair like porcelain, and her lips... Oh how delightfully sinful those lips are. She was perfection even in her state of euphoric forgetfulness when she wasn't sober or awake. And he loved her even then.

But when she wake in her lavish bed, alone, covered in her warm blankets and soft furs, she would not remember the night before, all she would recall was the man named Albert Wesker, her white rabbit that she followed down the rabbit hole, and how he kissed her knuckles like a true gentleman. And somehow it always made her smile.

But on other days when she'd wake up in his arms, she stays sane just for a little longer, the taste of his lips and kisses still lingering on her tongue.


End file.
